


never busy for rosemary and thyme

by Njhxz



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Male Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Pining, Pre-Relationship, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Tarben and his baking skills, pastries and loaves and cakes everywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Njhxz/pseuds/Njhxz
Summary: "I'm not the only one whose noticed, you know," Randvi hummed, tracing the delicate patterns of the map, "even though I'm cooped up in here most of the day."He crossed his arms, "noticed? noticed what?""That there's always a freshly baked loaf sitting on Tarben's windowsill each time you return to Ravensthorpe."
Relationships: Eivor/Tarben (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 90





	never busy for rosemary and thyme

His bracers gleaned with remnants of the morning's raid. Rivulets of dried blood on the corners of the carved steel, deep scores and notches earned from axes, swords and spears. All telltale signs of a glory-weaned warrior. A trip to Gunnar's would be the quick fix, but as of now, aboard his longship, Eivor chose to let sunlight ripple across his war-kissed armor in the fashion he always did: leaning out the side with his free hand cutting through the water, chanting hymns of victory and Valkyries. 

"What do you think, Eivor? Do we have enough lumber to build the hunting lodge now? Or maybe the shipyard?" One of the new Jomsviking asked, her scarred face and shaved head stood out from the rest of his drengir, and although he did not know her name yet, she'd helped him tear down a towering Saxon faster than anyone he'd fought beside. Familiarity began before her first words to him were ever even spoken.

He replied with a smile, shrugging, "let the Gods bless us with another raid like this one, and soon we'll build both." 

The roars and hungered cries that rang out shook the hull, fists slamming in quickening rhythm, their teeth bared and heads reared in prayer. Eivor looked to the sky, and a fading star winked in return. This land was his to take and his to consume. 

Rosebud dawn settled over night's dreary clouds, and the winding river soon gave way to the sight of the settlement tree, red and white banners dancing across her branches. His heart soared. In her idle repose, the grace and royalty that glittered off her leaves ignited more reverence in him than any king sat atop a throne ever could. He would seem a blasphemous madman if he bowed to her in every day's greeting, may the Gods forgive him for wanting it. 

The longship pulled up to the docks, bidding farewell to them with a groan of it's planks each time one stepped off, either that, or, his men needed to cut back on the mead and mutton. Eivor let out a soft chuckle at the sight of Dag hauling out the plundered goods, face as red as the day he was born. 

"Something funny, Wolf-Kissed?" The drengr huffed, setting down the barrel and fixing him with an angled brow. 

"No, not at all, Dag. Here, let me help you with that." Eivor hid his smirk and picked it back up, hauling it over his shoulder with one hand. 

"Ah, you like making an old fool of me, is that it?" 

"I'm _helping_ you, Dag, I would expect a 'thank you,'" they walked to the barracks, Eivor signaling to others to go and help with the haul. He set the barrel down and turned to face his friend, crossing his arms and finally letting that smirk show, "you fought well today, nearly had me running for the hills, let alone the Saxons." 

Dag rolled his eyes and slapped an hand on Eivor's shoulder, "I fight well _everyday_ Wolf-Kissed, best damn drengr those sorry shiteating bastards have ever seen. You should be grateful I'm on your side. By Odin's beard, imagine if I was one of them! Then you'd have a real challenge!" His throaty laugh rang throughout the docks, earning a few half-hearted chuckles in response. 

Eivor shrugged the man off, "I shiver at the thought. Now go on, help the others with unloading the ship." 

"Oh you-" 

"I'll see you later, Dag." He pressed his lips into a tight smile then walked off, leaving the man a grumbling and huffing mess. 

Ravensthorpe was growing, there was no doubt about that, he just didn't expect how _fast_ it was growing. With every day came a couple new faces, either chased out of their homes or looking for a change of pace, paired with their own requirements and needs in order to be happy here. It was all very wonderful and very strange and absolutely nothing like he was used to. 

But by the Gods things were just _better_ here. People's smiles were as frequent as sunshine, each their own little beams of light. Children darting like bees between the flowers, giggling 'till nightfall. The drengir passing time by telling stories and jokes and sharing meals instead of huddled with scowls beside the longships, awaiting orders. Friends formed quicker than enemies, and the sheen of hard work bound them altogether, reveling in the fruits of their labor as one. 

He caught himself before he slipped into the specifics, stroking a hand down his beard with a quiet sigh. To call himself grateful would be an understatement. 

Eivor entered the longhouse with his arms outstretched to meet Dwolfg's ivory coat, burying his nose in her fur as she licked at him frantically. It had been a long journey. 

His point was proven with the arrival of Randvi, walking out towards him from the room she'd rarely ever depart with, her hands held behind her back and a bounce to her step. He rose from the ground and savored in her warm smile, still absently scratching at Dwolfg's ears. 

"How nice it is to see you, Eivor." She hummed as he took her in his arms, breathing in the amber and honey of her hair. 

"Randvi," he murmured as she pulled back, holding him by the shoulders as her gaze traveled down his blood-stained armor, "how were things held here?" 

She looked up to the rafts of the longhouse, and as Eivor followed her eyes he was profoundly surprised at the sight of Rygjafylke's finest, the famed white elk of Bloody Peaks blankly staring back at him, mounted over the entrance, its antlers brushing against the pillars of the roof. He remembered the battle as though it were yesterday, especially the final blow, and how he howled to the sky over its carcass until he grew hoarse. 

"A gift from Wallace and his sister Petra—newcomers to the settlement." Randvi put her hands on her hips and glanced back at him, "I don't think they have a place to stay yet." 

Eivor took a breath, tipping his head back to stretch out the cords of his neck and shoulder, "we'll build them a place soon... by Odin, I'm exhausted, Randvi-" he turned to walk towards his room, but was quickly halted with her hand waving in face, "I suggest you get cleaned up first, Eivor. As proud as I am of your fortune and safe return, I _cannot_ bear the stench of you a moment longer." 

His mouth hung with exaggerated shock as she pinched her nose, "oh, that was terribly cruel of you to say, Table-Maiden. I'm away for weeks and all you have to tell me is that I _stink?"_ He held his chuckle and took a step towards her, to which she quickly countered with a step back. 

"I'll tell you all you need to know once you've taken a _wash_ _._ " Randvi gave a nasally giggle, angling her chin towards the distant sound of rushing water, "go, Eivor." 

With a dramatic eyeroll, the Viking left the longhouse, weariness running rampant in his muscles and bones. He'd always hated this part, the afterword, when the battle-lust and heightened senses wore off, leaving him a breathless and aching mess.

Eivor arrived at the edge of the waterfall beside Valka's hut, the gentle ripples breaking at the edge as he sat down with a sigh and began removing his armor, noticing a pair of deer curiously watching him from afar, button-eyed and unwavering. He shrugged off his cloak and tunic and laid it beside him, tightening his jaw at the frigid breeze hitting the skin of his shoulders. The water looked bitterly cold, just like in Norway, he'd quickly grown comfortable to the warmth here, and the moment Eivor slipped in he let out a shuddering huff that scared the deer back into the thicket. 

Droplets and mist rained flecks upon his face as he fought to heat himself up, the thin fabric of his trousers barely supplying the warmth he thought they would. The water lapped at his exposed abdomen, and the motion traveled through him with an uncomfortable sway. Eivor waded until he was halfway submerged, then brought his hands up and splashed at his face, scrubbing off the dried blood and bits of dirt and dust, and Gods know what else. 

The gushing waterfall resounded behind him, bubbling into the pool as Eivor sank deeper into the water, buried right up to his nose, closing his eyes to revel in the newfound tranquility. He felt himself relax, letting the cold wrap around his body in counsel rather than a foe to conquer. All the debilitating battles and the greed-fueled raids and the scorched settlements etched scars into his thoughts, the fear and the rage that circled in the air like smoke, following him wherever he went. He'd learned from a young age to push through doubt for the betterment of the gain, coupled with Odin's whispers of fate and destiny feeding into his actions with growing intensity, both of which held higher influence on him than his own mind. 

Eivor's reflection was cut short by the sound of a loud splash, paired with a startled gasp coming from the bank. His eyes flew open to see a man half-bent to the ground trying to grasp at a floating bucket, his features flush with embarrassment. 

"F-forgive me! I.. I wasn't-" he broke out, still reaching for the bucket as it drifted off even further, "I.. did not see you. At first." 

A smirk played on Eivor's lips while he drew his shoulders out of the water, "no, no, that's alright. It's not like that's my armor beside you," he angled his chin to his clothes, and watched as the man's gaze followed, letting out a nervous chuckle. 

He pushed himself forward into the water, standing up and wading towards the bucket as the emerging sun cast its rays on his back, notoriously aware of the man's eyes following. Grabbing it by the wiry handle, Eivor made his way back to the bank, pulling himself up while the waters sloshed with his departure, dripping puddles around his feet. 

The man took his bucket gingerly, his head bowed in what Eivor could only guess was respect, the timbre of his voice quivering, "thank you. And again, please forgive me for startling you like that. I didn't check my surroundings—" 

"It's alright. Truly. I was done anyway," Eivor chuckled, wringing his hair free of moisture, "I must ask, though, why the bucket?" 

"Hm? Oh." The man glanced down at his hand, "I was gathering water for the bread." 

"Bread? Are you Tekla's new apprentice?" 

"Uh.. no. I'm new. I arrived yesterday from... well, afar." The man waved dismissively, "I don't really know anyone here...except for Randvi and...um- you." 

Eivor nodded, taking note of the man's towering height and disheveled appearance, he looked weary and forlorn, apart from his cheeks which were still shining pink. "Huh. What's your name?" 

"Tarben." 

"Tarben," he muttered, "and you like to make bread?" 

"Well... yes. When I can." 

Eivor crossed his arms, looking back at the settlement, "and where are you staying, Tarben?" 

The man scratched at his neck and sighed, "in the barracks, with... your soldiers," his features faltered suddenly as he looked back at Eivor, stuttering over his words, "n-not that I'm complaining! I came here on my own and-..." 

"My drengir tend to be...rather rowdy. I understand your plight, Tarben." He smiled, completely forgetting the fact that he was half-naked and dripping water everywhere, "I've brought back supplies and lumber from my conquests, maybe I can help build you someplace to stay and, well, bake." 

Tarben frowned, "no, no, you don't have to, Eivor. I'm perfectly fine with the barracks. I believe there are others more in need of the supplies than me, I'm used to arrangements like that." 

He wanted to question further, but could evidently tell that the man was in no hurry to share the details of his life. Eivor stroked at his beard, then shrugged, "alright, if you say so. I do want to try out your bread though, whenever you get the chance to make it." 

In the split second that the suggestion was made, Tarben broke into a soft smile and Eivor couldn't tell whether it was the sunlight or the man's happiness gleaming in his eyes. "Of course, once I gather all my ingredients. Consider it my formal apology for... well, interrupting you." 

The Viking laughed, and brought a hand to Tarben's shoulder, "you don't have to do that, it should be me apologizing for scaring you into dropping your bucket." 

Eivor bent down to sit, gathering his blood-streaked bracers to clean. He caught Tarben's gaze, still smiling down at him, a beat of awkward silence holding between them before he glanced at the bucket in his hand, "right. I should probably get going, then." 

"I'll see you around, Tarben." 

As the man walked off, Eivor chuckled to himself, recollecting the encounter while dipping his outerwear into the water. Tarben's face, his embarrassment, the way he kept profusely apologizing. Considering his height and outward demeanor, he never would've guessed the man to be so soft-spoken and gentle. A bit shocking, to say the least. 

Once everything was clean and dried, he put his clothing back on and fastened the armor, watching how they shone against the light, as if they never bore the weight of the dead. Eivor sighed, the little energy he had completely drained, his body begging him to get some sleep. 

Randvi was awaiting his arrival back in the longhouse, leaning against the doorway of his room, reading a letter. She glanced up as he trudged in, a hand flying to her mouth, "by the Gods, Eivor, look at you, as clean as a newborn babe." 

He didn't even have the strength to counter back, only rolling his eyes as he walked past her and into his room and collapsed onto his bed, breathing into the soft furs of his blanket, perfectly spent. 

Randvi's fading giggle was the last thing he heard before drifting off into a dreamless sleep. He was out for the entire day, only waking up at the smell of a freshly baked loaf sitting beside his table, still hot to the touch. Eivor scarfed it down, tasting hints of herbs he didn't know the name of, only that they made it so much more delectable. When he questioned Randvi where it came from, she shrugged and returned to her work, letting him fall back onto his bed and sleep through the rest of the night. 

And at first light, Eivor walked up to the empty plot of land and ordered for Tarben's bakery to be built. 


End file.
